Sometimes a Manic Hobgoblin gets the better of me. I live in a sweet, old house in central Austin built in 1952. I travel a few times each year. I have too many pets, and love each one more than the next.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Love the One You're With

I admit it. I look at other houses sometimes. I'm a homeowner, but I'm not blind. I see houses that have professionally landscaped exteriors on quieter streets. I see houses that have fireplaces and interior laundry rooms. I can't afford most of those houses, so there's no harm in just looking, right? I mean, they're totally out of my league. They're probably so accustomed to the longing glances from strangers that they don't even notice anymore.

I love my 1952 house. As I painted over a few dings inside the house, and finally painted the new door and frames outside this weekend, I couldn't help but notice this sweet house's age spots. I saw the chipped wood trim, the cracks in the shingle facade, the uneven repairs on patchwork drywall in the corners of some rooms. I looked out over the too-big-for-me yard with its raggedy mix of bare dirt, grass and weeds that needs to be mowed again already. I fantasized of a day when I'll have just a small courtyard or patio to maintain with a posh garden home or modern condo.

My dream-abode is either brand new, or newly remodeled and move-in ready. It doesn't need to be bigger, but I'd like to trade-in one of the bedrooms for another bathroom and a laundry room that doesn't involve a trip out to the carport. Oh, and of course it has ample closets. I know some people go gaga for garages, but I'm attracted to a lighted, walk-in closet myself. Though I lust after this imagined future home, I haven't found it yet. If I do find it, who's to say that the timing will be right?

For now, I love this house. I still see all the traits that first drew me here. We've had some great times and made memories. We're attuned to each others' quirks and creaks. We're comfortable together. Sometimes that's enough.